


Precious

by OfTeaAndJumpers



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Badass Aziraphale, Banter, Boys In Love, Crowley's pov, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Post Season 1, a little sad, a little silly, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 20:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20297752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTeaAndJumpers/pseuds/OfTeaAndJumpers
Summary: Post Season 1. Aziraphale does something wildly unexpected to reveal his feelings for Crowley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I'd watched the show, I HAD to write something Aziraphale-centered. Indulge me :-) I love badass Aziraphale, and I needed something equally angsty, funny and soft. So basically I wrote the story for me, but I hope some readers will enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> I do not own the characters (sadly, who doesn't want to own such a delicious pair?). This story is not beta'ed or britpicked and I apologise in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> Enjoy! Oh, and leave some comments, I live for comments :)

„What you said the other day... did you mean it?“

They had finished dinner at the Ritz and were on their way to Aziraphale's bookshop. What a splendid night, thought Crowley. Here they were walking, not a care in the world. Noone from above or below would be bothering them for the time being. Apocalypse was at least postponed. Let the humans be wreaking havoc themselves, without intervention from hell. And let them be kind and selfless, without angelic help. Humans were capable of both. There was nothing else to do right now.

If Crowley was honest to himself – not an easily accomplished task, given that his job usually entailed lying and manipulating – he was a tad insecure about what would follow next. A happily ever after, no matter in what shape, was not something he could easily imagine. He felt lost somehow, having lost a clear purpose. Stealing a glance at his companion, however, made him feel slightly better. Aziraphale was calmly walking beside him, impeccably clad as always in his beige suit, tufts of angelic hair swaying lightly in the summer breeze. He had thrown the question at Crowley as if in passing, as if it wasn't important. But Crowley could sense a slight tension is his step. 

„I said a lot of things, angel. You have to be a bit more precise.“

Aziraphale stopped, turned around to face his friend, but did not explain himself for a good while. He merely stood there, his face pensieve. Finally, he spoke, his soft gaze never leaving Crowley's face.

„You said I could move in with you.“ 

„Oh! Right … that.“ Crowley was momentarily at a loss for words. There was no doubt that he meant it. Just as when he suggested they run off together. He simply could not imagine an existence on earth – or any other planet, for that matter – where Aziraphale was not in his company.   
But somehow, these thoughts sounded too sappy to repeat aloud, so what he said instead was „I couldn't very well leave you on the streets now, could I?“ It came out rather brusquely, so he tried to tone it down by adding „Of course I meant it.“

„Well.“ Aziraphale turned away to look across the street where his bookshop stood, unscathed, as if the terrible fire had never happened. 

„I suppose it's no longer of importance, since I haven't lost my home.“ The way he said it, Crowley almost thought he could detect a hint of regret. But that couldn't be. Aziraphale loved this books.

„We both lost our homes. Heaven and Hell.“ Crowley said carefully.

„Good riddance, don't you think?“ Aziraphale grinned, nonchalantly, but he could not fool Crowley. His eyes were too bright. Crowley extended his arm to put a hand on the angel's shoulder.

„Indeed. Now it's just us.“

Crowley could never have guessed what happened next. Aziraphale took a step towards him, closed the distance and hugged him, tightly. To Crowley, it felt as if he tried to summon his strength, as if he needed Crowley's touch to assure him of something. He then slowly stepped back, turned around and walked over to the bookshop, where he vanished inside, without so much as a backward glance.

Crowley stood rooted to the spot. He was sorely tempted to follow Aziraphale inside, but somehow had the feeling he shouldn't. He stared for some endless minutes at the door, willing it to open.

He smelt it before he saw it. Fire. The whole first floor seemed to be burning. Flames licked out of an open window. It was the window to Aziraphale's living room. The room where they had spent countless nights, getting pleasantly (and sometimes not so pleasantly) drunk, refilling the bottles, discussing the world, humans, God, Satan, or where one could get the best sushi in town. 

Crowley loved those nights, when they felt so close, when he could pretend they were not creatures from different sides, when he could fool himself into thinking that they were destined to be more than just friends. Those nights when Aziraphale lost his impeccable appearance, gradually, until he lounged on the sofa, very nearly looking debauched, and when Crowley could only helplessly fall in love with him. Again and again and again.

„Aziraphale!“ 

Crowley shook off this thoughts and ran across the street, afraid that his friend had lost his mind. Why would he do something like that to his beloved books? Or, worse still, himself? Already the same despair he was feeling not long ago was gripping Crowley again, and he stopped for a second, breathing hard, bent over as if he was hurting physically. His heart hammered in this chest. 

When he was able to catch his breath and straighten himself, he was met with a sight he had not expected.

The front door to the bookshop burst open with a loud bang! and out walked Aziraphale. He looked glorious, his white-blonde hair like a halo around his head, illuminated by the fire behind. He was slightly dishevelled, having lost his bow-tie and his overcoat, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Crowley felt a mixture of relief at seeing Aziraphale unharmed, and anger about his friend's unexplicable behaviour.

Just when he opened his mouth to shout What the hell are you thinking to burn down your bookshop, he saw a tiny flame lazily licking around Aziraphale's left shoulder. It was like a very gentle, and very deadly, embrace. One Aziraphale was obviously not aware of yet, or he would not have walked with such an unconcerned, gracefully paced step towards him. 

„Aziraphale!“ Crowley yelled, for the second time. He was beside himself with worry. That the whole building was burning fiercely now and indeed looked close to collapsing put his friend in even deadlier peril. He might not loose his life, but could very well become discorporated. This was not something Crowley ever wanted to see again. But it would not come to that, he swore to himself.

Summoning all the strength he could, he focused on Aziraphale and the bookshop behind him, which now looked as if it would come down at any moment. For a few endless seconds, nothing happened, but already Crowley could feel the cool breeze on his face, which rapidly strengthened to a storm, blowing thick, black clouds to block out the deep-blue evening skies. It started to rain, and not a second to soon. He could not stop the building from collapsing, but at least the fire licking around Aziraphale went out with a light sizzle. Only now the angel seemed to notice that he had been burning, and when some bricks came down behind him with a loud crash, he lept towards Crowley with a rather undignified squeak.

Crowley could not help it, he began to laugh. It was quite a sight: his angel, drenched in rain, burn holes in his shirt, soot on his face, and smiling like an idiot. Crowley's laugh turned into tears. It was just as well that it was raining so hard, or Aziraphale would have seen him crying. Ah well, what did it matter. He started to scream.

„What the hell do you think you're doing? You could have died! I thought I lost you. Again!“

„I simply take you up on your offer.“ Aziraphale answered, calmly. The rain had lessened, and they both stood, soaking wet, and faced each other. Crowley shivered. 

„I'm afraid I can't follow.“

„Usually it's the other way round, isn't it? What a refreshing change.“ Aziraphale grinned, obviously delighted, but at the same time looked at him with a tenderness that very nearly broke Crowley's heart.

„I lost my home. Again. It seems I have to move in with you for the time being.“

„You ...“ Crowley was incredulous. „You burnt down your whole bookshop and your biggest treasure just to move in with me? Did it ever occur to you that you could have simply asked me?“

„I wanted to make a point.“

„A point? What point?“

Aziraphale's eyes twinkled. „That my biggest treasure is not an old house full of paper.“ At Crowley's bemused face, he added, with an exasperated sigh, „It's you, eejit.“

Crowley was stunned into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

„Your place then, I assume?“

Aziraphale hailed a cab and they got in. Crawley was still reeling from what happened. Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine that Aziraphale would burn his home, let alone be so open about his feelings. What they felt for each other was something they barely acknowledged. It seemed to suffice that they sought out each other's company for thousands of years, constantly dined and drank together, helped each other out when needed and bickered like an old couple.

Apparently, this was no longer enough.

Crowley felt a hand on his arm and chanced a sideways glance to Aziraphale. His friend was staring straight ahead, but a small smile played on his lips, and he squeezed his arm lightly.

„Faggots.“

It was the cabbie who so rudely interrupted them. Crowley bristled. „What did you just call us, arsehole?“

There was no answer. Where, seconds before, the cabbie's head had sat solidly on his shoulders, there was now … an oversized onion.

Crowley goggled. He could not help it. This was too much.

„Is this your doing?“

„Splendid way of shutting him up, don't you think?“ Aziraphale giggled. The demon could not help but join in the laughter.

„Yes, but you forget the tiny problem that he can no longer see where he is going. Even you should know that an onion is not supposed to drive a car.“ And indeed, the cab had started so swerve wildly from right to left, barely staying on track. Aziraphale miracled the car to a standstill.

„Off we go.“ he said brightly and stepped into the rainy night. Before they turned their backs on the car, he gave a lazy wave over to the cabbie, who now got his head back, only to scream in a volume that the windows of the car nearly shattered.

„I must say, he was more amenable when he still had his onion head.“ They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Still soaking wet, they climbed the stairs to Crowley's flat. Aziraphale was shivering violently, and as soon as they were through the front door, Crowley said, „Make yourself a nice cuppa, and I'll run a bath for you.“ It felt oddly domestic to say it. Crowley had only ever lived alone, and had preferred it that way. It had never occurred to him to have a flatmate. Flatmates tended to leave their socks in unexpected places, bring uninvited guests along and listen to horrible music. Somehow he doubted Aziraphale would do any of these things. And he certainly did not fit the label „flatmate“. Labels were boring, anyway.

Crowley opened the door to his bathroom and turned on the water in the bathtub, then tested the temperature. He brought a stack of fresh, soft white towels and put an assortment of bathing salts next to the tap. Satisfied, he closed the door to allow the bathroom to warm up and made his way over to the kitchen. On the way, he almost stumbled over a briefcase which hadn't been there before. It looked somehow familiar. Weird, he thought.

When he entered the kitchen, Aziraphale looked up, teacup in his hands, and smiled. Already he looked less like a drowned cat, although his hair was still damp and curled in the most delightful way.

„The briefcase ...“ Crowley began.

„Do you recognise it?“

„Is it …?“

„Yes, it contains the books you saved from the church in World War II. I hid them in a bank safe and just miracled them here, to our home.“

„But why …?“ It seemed Crowley could no longer speak in whole sentences. His mind was still stuck on the words _our home_.

„_You_ saved them for me all those years ago.“, Aziraphale said. „I thought it would be such a waste if they get destroyed. Seems I had an inkling that something would happen to my bookshop.“

Crowley had to swallow around a sudden lump in his throat.

„You're full of surprises today, my friend.“ Afraid that his voice would betray his emotions, he briskly added „Bath's ready. Off you go, it's nice and hot. Give me your clothes, I'll clean them.“

While Aziraphale was busy in the bathroom, Crowley tried to turn the suit into passable condition. Removing soot and dirt stains was requiring some supernatural effort, but in the end, he was reasonably satisfied.

„Your suit is as good as new!“ he said in direction of the bathroom door.

No answer.

Now that he thought about it, he never heard the sound of splashing bathwater. Maybe Aziraphale was a particularly silent bather? But somehow Crowley doubted it. He cautiosly approached the closed door. Did his ears betray him or did he just hear a faint whimper?

„Are you alright, dear?“

Still no answer.

He burst through the door and came to a sudden halt. Aziraphale stood facing the bathtub, from which hot, citrus-scented steam emerged in lazy swirls. A towel was slung around his torso and revealed naked shoulders. He looks vulnerable, Crowley thought with a sudden pang of sadness.

Only now did he realise that Aziraphale's shoulders were shaking. He carefully laid a hand on his arm and turned him around.

Aziraphale was crying. Crowley had never seen him crying. He didn't even know angels could cry. Aziraphale's eyes, instead of their usual blue-green, were almost silvery and overflowing with bright tears. As if he was crying stars. It was the most beautiful sight Crowley had ever seen, and the saddest.

„I can't, Crowley.“ The angel's voice was barely audible. „I can still see the bathtub in Hell. I can still see them, how they wanted to execute you. How they treated you. It was awful.“ He fell silent.

Of course. Of course the bathtub would bring back those horrible memories. Crowley wanted to slap himself. Why didn't he suggest a nice shower instead? But no, he had to show off with his Victorian clawfoot bathtub. His mind raced, and he came to a quick conclusion.

„Give me a second, love.“ _Love_ was meant to soothe the still distressed angel, and it rolled surprisingly easy off Crowley's lips. He began to understand why Aziraphale liked to use endearments.

With a snap of his fingers, he shed his wet clothes and nimbly climbed in the bathtub.

„Fancy a bath with the demon?“

„Um -“ Aziraphale still looked doubtful, but no longer frightened. Several seconds passed in silence, the tension was palpable. Finally, the angel sighed, as if he'd made up his mind. His eyes, gradually losing their silvery hue, never left Crowley's, while he shed his towel and slowly lowered himself into the hot water. He sat facing Crowley, still somewhat tense.

„Turn around.“, said Crowley gently. Aziraphale obeyed. He settled back, and Crowley felt his body slowly sagging into him. For a while, they simply sat there, unmoving, enjoying the hot water. There was no need to speak.

Until -

  
„Thank you.“ It was merely a whisper. Crowley could have cried, his friend's voice was still so fragile. He tried to ease the tension with a feeble joke.

„No need to thank me. I merely wanted to tempt you to join me.“

Laughter erupted from the angel's mouth. „Temptation accomplished.“

„_You_ are the temptation.“ Crowley replied, and he meant it. Although Aziraphale's back was to him, and mostly underwater, he could see plenty of milky-white skin, wild curls dampened to a dark blonde, a delicately curved neck, a few unexpected freckles on the left shoulder. And his smell was, for want of a better word … heavenly.

Aziraphale seemed more relaxed now; his body melted against Crowley, and his head came to rest upon the demon's shoulder. They did not speak for a long while.

„I wish we could stay like this forever.“ Aziraphale murmured. „Just the two of us, in our tiny, safe bubble, where noone could hurt us.“

  
Crowley put his arms around him and kissed him on the shoulder. Then, with some effort, he spread his wings and bent them around the bathtub, until they were fully enclosed in black feathers.

„There“, he said. „Our safe bubble. Just for the two of us.“

Aziraphale stayed silent. But he craned his neck and gave Crowley a tender kiss on his cheek. He then smiled indulgently and said, nudging Crowley's ear with his nose, „You are such a romantic sap, you know.“

Crowley snorted.

„And you, my friend, are much too mischievous for an angel.“

„Oh, you don't know the half of it.“ Before Crowley could ask what Aziraphale meant with his cryptic answer, he felt a slight tug behind his navel. For a nanosecond his vision turned black, and then he found himself lying between the sheets of his own bed. Dry, warm, naked, and with an amused angel in his arms.

„Miraculous, eh?“ Aziraphale's face was full of mirth. His eyes shone brightly, and he looked at Crowley with pure affection. There was still a trace of melancholy in his features, and it made him all the more beautiful.

„Can I kiss you?“ Crowley asked, a little out of breath.

Aziraphale did not answer. He closed the distance and pressed his smiling lips to Crowley's mouth, while pulling him even closer. Crowley almost forgot to breathe. He'd never experienced such a kiss. It felt as if they both floated weightlessly in a tank full of quiet bliss. Enclosed with nothing but warmth and love. He wished the kiss would never end.

„That, my love,“ said Aziraphale, when he came up for air, „is _my_ personal bubble. Just for the two of us.“

Crowley looked at him. He knew, of course, that they would sooner or later have to face reality, deal with heaven or hell or apocalypse. But not now. For now, they had found one another. The angel and the demon.

„Let's get some sleep, love.“ he said.


End file.
